


too many chances

by buffylovesfaith



Category: My So-Called Life
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/F, about her love for angela, and her issues/life in general, rather angsty, rayanne's thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 14:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10336769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffylovesfaith/pseuds/buffylovesfaith
Summary: After being hospitalized for ODing, Rayanne can feel her friends, especially Angela, slowly slipping away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I don't usually write in this POV, but maybe I'll warm up to it. But there needs to be more fic for this fandom! Hopefully I'll feel like writing more. If you read, please give me a comment and let me know that you're out there!

I lean over the thin railing and stare into the dark waters of the river. I’m in the part of town with all the abandoned houses and I don’t think anyone will find me here. I close my eyes and take another swig from my bottle. I’ve got it wrapped up in a paper bag so it’s nice and cold. I can feel the sharp edges of my consciousness getting more and more fuzzy and farther and farther away, my feelings dulled to where I can barely feel them. Perfect. 

I first started drinking to have fun, to be able to just...I don’t know, somehow transfer all the feelings I had in my body into actions, experiences. Something I could _do_ something with instead of keeping them locked up tight inside my body. That’s still mostly what I drink for—and the drugs really helped with that too. I guess I won’t be able to do that stuff anymore though. Shit. Probably for the best, I mean ending up in the hospital is scary stuff. It’s not like I want to die. 

But sometimes I don’t want to have fun, to feel myself magnified bigger than life, a shooting star, a comet streaking across the sky, burning everything in its path. Sometimes I want to be as far away from myself as I can. I want to retreat, to not feel. Liquor’s helpful with that too. Helpful with most things if I’m being honest.

Angela doesn’t know I’m drinking right now. Neither does Rickie. And I obviously didn’t tell my counselor. Things would be even more fucked up than they are right now if anyone found out. I can’t tell them, I just...don’t want things to change more. So I have to be really careful, even while I’m feeling so shitty that I’m lying to them. I really am trying to quite though, that part’s not a lie. This will just be one (or two) minor set backs, I promise. 

I kick the railing until my big toe starts hurting inside my shoe, and then I take another harsh pull of whiskey. It burns on the way down. 

I can feel myself getting drunker. Good. The feelings are dulled but the thoughts won’t stop coming. God, I can’t believe I fucked all this up. I’m such a loser. Worthless. Turns out it was true all along. Some kind of self fulfilling prophecy, huh?

I mean, Jesus. It’s not like I didn’t know this wouldn’t last. Not like I didn’t know that sooner or later, Angela would leave me—either suddenly, like a mirror that’s fallen on the floor and broken into a million pieces, or slowly, almost hard to notice what’s happening until it’s too late, a sickness that crawls into your body and devours you until you disappear completely.

I knew she’d leave and find a best friend who’s better in every way, someone she deserves. But did I really have to help the process along? 

Her face haunts me, the one I saw when I woke up in the hospital. The one I keep seeing. Disappointed, angry, sad, slightly disgusted. But worse of all—disillusioned. Like she’d finally seen me for the first time, and I’m not what she thought I was. My wings have fallen and I’m really not that great after all. I knew it, of course I knew it, but I didn’t want her to see. I was her wild friend, her dangerous friend, maybe, the one who felt too much too fast. But she had fun with me. I helped her fly. She needed me, wanted me, or at least wanted something _from_ me. Wanted to be me, whatever. At least I had her, somewhat. The two of us, we could set the world on fire. 

But now I can feel her breaking away, slowly. They think I don’t notice the distance, but I do. Subtle but there. Soon she’ll start running though, faster and faster, like a dog bought from the kennel and hungry for it’s first breath of clean air and freedom. It’s only a matter of time before she slips away entirely, nothing left of her but my vivid, painful memories. Those’ll be my undoing, I’m sure of it. 

It’s not like I meant for this to happen. I just wanted to have fun, it’s not like I _wanted_ to OD and almost die. But I guess after a while people get tired of that excuse. I guess I’ve had one too many chances. 

God, I love her. I love her so much. My perfect, beautiful Angelika. I just want to eat her up, breath her in, pull some of her essence, her goodness out and wind it into my own body. Maybe then I would be worthy of her love. Maybe I could stop myself from being a pathetic, fifteen year old alcoholic slut. Maybe I could stop myself from pushing the person I love the most further and further away. Maybe I wouldn’t be standing wasted in an alley at two am on a Thursday night, alone. I wouldn’t have to pretend to like myself.

She’s so beautiful and kind and thoughtful and honest and untouched and always herself and just...perfect. I should just be grateful for these months I’ve had with her. 

I don’t know if she really knows how I feel about her, but I think she is at least aware of...something. On some level. 

I have to see her tomorrow at school. I’ll pretend nothing’s wrong. Put on my happy face and act like my life is still the best, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Act like I don’t see what’s looming just on the horizon. I don’t want her to know I know. I still have the slightest hope that things could go back to the way they were. Stupid, but I can’t shake it. At least I’m a pretty good actress when I need to be. 

That way she won’t be able to see my breaking heart.


End file.
